


Fate

by BreakfastTea



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Inspired by the Dawn trailer, ending spoilers, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 19:21:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13301547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreakfastTea/pseuds/BreakfastTea
Summary: Clarus comforts Regis after the Crystal reveals Noctis' fate.





	Fate

**Author's Note:**

> One of the only trailers I ever watched for FFXV was the Dawn trailer. And ever since I've played the game, I've wanted to write something based on it because the whole idea fascinates me for very spoilery reasons which will become clear over the course of this story. That said, if you haven't completed the game, maaaaybe come back to this one. It'll be here waiting ;) I am going to spoil the game's ending.

Clarus heard the frenzied footsteps in the corridor outside his office. He looked up the same moment a heavy knock sounded on the door.

“Enter,” he called.

A young servant entered. Clarus didn’t recognise the man, although on second glance he was barely more than a boy. His face was flushed and he gasped for breath. Still, he bowed. “Sir,” he said. “You must come. It’s King Regis.”

Clarus frowned. “What’s happened?”

The servant shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think anyone else saw him. He… forgive me, sir. It is most awkward.” He blushed brightly.

“What? Don’t falter. What’s wrong?”

“He was crying, sir.”                                                                                                                                                                

Clarus moved swiftly, abandoning his office in a heartbeat. “Where is he?”

“In the courtyard,” the servant said breathlessly, his shorter legs struggling to keep up with Clarus’ long-legged stride. “By the Regalia.”

“Thank you. You may return to your duties.” Clarus stared at the servant. “Do not speak of what you’ve seen. Should I hear even a hint of a rumour, you will regret it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Clarus ran. People scattered out of his way. He raced down the stairs and stepped outside, rain pouring even though the sun lit up the clouds. Clarus saw Regis staring up at the sky, his son fast asleep in one arm. Noctis, Clarus mused distractedly, apparently hadn’t outgrown a need for naps.

“Regis.” Clarus approached calmly. He could see dampness on his friend’s face, though he could not tell whether it was rain or tears. He saw his friend’s sword at his side, a flash of concern shooting through him. “Has something happened?”

Regis stirred. He looked to Clarus. Clarus expected his old friend to shake his head, laugh it off, say something to assuage his worry.

He did not.

He openly wept.

Clarus was struck dumb. He looked at Regis, looked to Noctis, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. No injuries. No sign of illness. Just a man and his child, drenched by the rain.

“Take him,” Regis said, his words cracked and weak.

Clarus reached out and took Noctis. The sleeping child stirred, murmuring and sighing, but he did not awaken. Noctis shivered in Clarus’ arms. Holding him tightly, Clarus wrapped as much of his jacket as he could around the child and tugged the boy’s hood over his head.

“Come inside,” Clarus said. “You’ll both catch a chill if you remain out here.”

For a moment, it didn’t appear as though Regis had heard. His eyes remained skyward. Then, just as Clarus opened his mouth to speak again, Regis stirred and nodded. He sent his sword into the Armiger, wiped his face, and walked with Clarus. “We should take him to my chambers,” Regis said. “He will sleep until I undo the magic.”

“Magic?” Clarus asked.

“I made him sleep,” Regis said. He spoke so softly Clarus had to strain to hear him. “I had to.” He reached out, brushing his son’s cheek. “He’ll be alright.”

“Made him sleep?” Clarus asked, hoping he sounded amused rather than vaguely horrified at the thought of Regis rendering his son unconscious. “I know he can be a little rambunctious, but –”

“I couldn’t allow him to see me like this,” Regis said. “He can never, ever know. He can’t – ” He broke down again.

Clarus stepped up to him. “Come, Regis. We’ll take the private corridors. Whatever has happened, we can speak of it when you’re ready.”

Regis nodded. Clarus led him into the Citadel, leading him into corridors only a select few knew of. They boarded a lift and ascended to Regis’ private chambers. Once there, Clarus left Regis in the parlour and carried Noctis into his father’s bedroom. He removed Noctis’ shoes and tucked him into the enormous bed. He checked the boy’s temperature with the back of his hand. Slightly chilly, but nothing to worry about. He was, as Regis had said, merely sleeping.

Clarus closed the bedroom’s doors and joined Regis. Regis stood in the middle of the room, looking lost and bedraggled. Clarus remembered the last time he had seen his friend in such a state was after the loss of his beloved wife.

What could have happened?

“Regis,” Clarus called.

Regis didn’t react.

Clarus crossed the room. “Speak to me,” He reached out, gripping Regis’ shoulder. The king was deathly pale, his features slack. He weaved on his feet. Clarus shook him. “What has happened?”

“Clarus, I –”

Regis collapsed. Clarus caught him, lowering him to the floor. “Regis!” Dread closed around him, leaving him shivering in its wake. Whatever had happened, the truth of it lurked behind him like a hidden daemon waiting to strike. Clarus squared his shoulders. Whatever it was, he would do all he could to protect his king, his friend. That was his sworn duty.

Regis’ eyes snapped open, but his expression didn’t lose any of its sickly pallor. “Clarus?” His eyes wandered across the ceiling. “What happened?”

“You fainted.” Clarus winced at the disbelief in his tone.

“Fainted?”                                                                                                

“Yes. Take a moment.”

Regis blinked and appeared to come back to himself. He stared at Clarus. “The crystal spoke with me,” he said. “When I heard its voice, when it told me its message, I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t let Noct see me like that.” Regis buried his face in his hands. “He can’t know. I had to make him sleep. What would such knowledge do to a child?” He laughed suddenly, the sound worryingly unhinged. “I cast a Sleep spell on my own child to spare him.”

Spare him? Clamping down on his frustration and his mounting panic, for neither would do them any good, Clarus guided Regis into a chair. “Explain to me what has you so distraught.”

Regis clasped the armrests so tightly, Clarus could see the man’s knuckles straining against the skin covering the. Regis stared into space and spoke. “Noctis is the crystal’s Chosen.”

And just like that, understanding dawned. Clarus found himself sitting opposite Regis before he realised his knees had dropped him. “Regis…” It was no good. Words utterly failed him. Clarus _knew_ he should speak of duty, of destiny, of the pride a father should feel that his son would achieve such greatness for the sake of his people, but he couldn’t. The mere thought of it sickened him. No one could be so cold. Clarus looked to his friend, to his king, and saw a man facing the terrifying reality that his five-year-old son was doomed.

“He can’t know,” Regis said, holding his head in his hands. “Not yet. Not until there is no other choice but for him to know. I won’t allow him to be crushed by this.”

“Alright,” Clarus said, for how could he disagree? Who would tell a child the cruelty fate held for him? The damage such knowledge could do would be truly incalculable.

“I know what I must do, and yet how can I? How can I prepare my son and this country for what is to come? For the darkness awaiting us all? Noctis is five!” Regis cried out. “Five! And the crystal and the gods would have him die for a world he has barely set foot in.”

“Have we no way out? Is there no other way to bring an end to this war and the prophecy?” Clarus asked. “I can have the archivists look into it. Surely we can –”

“Clarus, I would do anything, anything at all, to spare my child this fate. But he is of royal blood, and the crystal will take what it wants. Hasn’t it always?” Anger and bitterness choked Regis’ voice. “One way or another, Noctis will be claimed by it. I knew the moment he was born his life would never be as long as it ought to be.” Regis sat straighter. “It falls to the line of Lucis to protect the crystal by any means necessary. But more than that, it will fall to Noctis to bring light back to all of Eos.”

Clarus’ heart wavered, a very real risk of tears threatening his control. He couldn’t stop himself from turning to the closed bedroom doors, couldn’t help but think of the boy within and… No. No, it was too cruel. Five… barely more than a baby.

“All I can do is prepare him without ever telling him what his role will be,” Regis said. He looked to Clarus, his expression so bleak it broke something in Clarus. “He must grow up to think he will take my place, as I took my own father’s.”

Was that the best way to do this? Should these decisions be made now? Clarus couldn’t keep the reluctance out of his tone. “Regis –”

“What else would you have me do?” Regis asked, desperation in every word. “Tell him the truth? Allow him to grow under the weight of such a hideous fate?”

“No,” Clarus said. “Of course not.”

“He will learn to fight. He will wield magic. He will be ready, even if he can never know what it is he must be ready for. And when the time comes for him to take the throne, for him to –” Regis swallowed, but he continued. “When he must end the Scourge, I will ensure he has people with him to see it through. To guide him and be with him in his darkest hours.”

“How long do we have to prepare?” Clarus asked.

“Years,” Regis said. “Fifteen, perhaps, if we’re lucky.”

Fifteen years. It would pass too fast. “He will be ready.”

“We will all be ready,” Regis said. He looked to Clarus. “I know how this will end for both myself and my son, but beyond that, the crystal revealed little. I cannot say what fate awaits yourself, or Gladiolus when he takes his place.”

“We have sworn fealty,” Clarus said. “Wherever you go, and whatever happens, Gladio and I will be there for you both.”

Regis smiled. His eyes swam with tears. His lips trembled. “Thank you,” he said, voice thick. “I could not do this alone.”

Clarus reached over and squeezed Regis’ hand. “Never, Regis. You are never alone.”

“I am sorry to burden you with this.”

“I am your Shield. I am here to serve.”

“No one else can know,” Regis said. “Not even Gladio.”

Clarus nodded. “Agreed.” There would be no chance of this getting out, no way for Noctis to learn of this via gossip and rumour.

Regis fell back against his chair with a groan. “I have meetings to attend. The council must already be wondering why we are late. How can I listen to reports on the war or even the banalities of agriculture today? I won’t hear a word of it.”

“You won’t have to,” Clarus said, slipping his phone out of his pocket. “You can have a day.” He dialled the council chamber’s number and explained to the assistant who answered that the king had taken unexpectedly ill and would be unable to attend the day’s meetings. He hung up before the assistant could say anything in response. “Go,” Clarus said to Regis. “Spend the day with your son. Think not of the future. Live for today.”

“Thank you,” Regis said.

“We will make the best of this,” Clarus said. Such cold comfort, but what else could he offer? “When the time comes, many years from now, Noctis will be ready. He will fulfil his destiny.”

“I know he will,” Regis said. “Our entire world needs him to.” He stood up, his knees popping. “It’s a little hard to imagine right now. Only yesterday his nanny explained how he had a tantrum after she tried to get him to eat a tomato. She had to put him in time out, and he didn’t speak to her for the rest of the day.”

Clarus got to his feet as well. “He’ll grow out of it. They all do.”

“The tantrums or the pickiness?” Regis asked.

“Both, I hope.” Clarus reached over and gripped Regis’ shoulder. “Do not lose hope yet. We have time to research this. We may yet find another way.”

“Perhaps,” Regis said. “I never wanted this for him. If I can end this war, at the very least I may spare him upholding the wall and then perhaps –”

“Regis, enough. Spend your sick day with him. Relish every moment you have.”

“Sick day.” Regis chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever done such a thing.”

“All the more reason to do so now.”

Regis squeezed Clarus’ hand. Without another word, he entered the bedroom. Clarus watched Regis lift Noctis from the blankets and undo the magic keeping him asleep. The boy stirred, murmuring. Whatever he said, it caused Regis to laugh brightly.

“No, not five more minutes,” Regis said, his voice warm, all the tears and anguish banished. “Wake up and spend the day with your old man. I promise if you do, there will be cake.”

“Cake?” a little voice piped up.

“Of your choosing.”

“Okay, Daddy, I’m awake!”

Clarus, heart aching, left them to it. They needed to make the most of the time they had.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I really wanted to explore Regis and Clarus' friendship because I firmly believe Clarus is the only person Regis could trust with the truth about Noctis' fate. No one could carry that kind of weight alone.
> 
> See you all next time!
> 
> (Pssst, I'm also taking fic requests until the end of today (Jan 7th) on Tumblr ^_^ Find me at [BreakfastTeaTime](https://breakfastteatime.tumblr.com/))


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